


Break Down These Walls

by Underthecorktree



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Art Model, Artist Castiel, Bottom Dean, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, College, DCSS2015, First Time, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Kind of Doctor Cas, M/M, Model Dean, Romance, Smut, Top Cas, Winter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-05
Updated: 2016-01-05
Packaged: 2018-05-11 21:46:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5643085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Underthecorktree/pseuds/Underthecorktree
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean Winchester needed money, which meant that he'd listen to his normally intelligent little brothers stupid idea to model for an art class. Normally, Dean wasn't nervous about his body, but when a blue eyed stranger shows up in his class and just won't stop staring, things get a little out of hand.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Break Down These Walls

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CasButt_SassButt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CasButt_SassButt/gifts).



> I had a lot of fun writing this and I'm really hoping you guys like it. Just a small warning however, this is my first time writing legit smut, so I'm not certain how that turned out. It's not a major part of the story though, so I don't think it's a big deal.
> 
> This is based off the following prompt: Dean poses nude for an art class for several months to make some extra bucks. Why oh why did that new blue eyed Greek god have to stare like that....?
> 
> Title is a reference to the All Time Low song, "Walls" that I listened to while writing this. 
> 
> Anyway, I don't own Supernatural or any of the characters affilated, Destiel would be a lot more cannon if I did.

It’s really freaking cold. That’s his first thought upon walking into the art building, trying to find his way to room 217. It’s mid-December, and in Kansas, that pretty much means that you should prepare like it’s freaking Game of Thrones and ‘Winter is Coming.’ To be fair, Dean might be exaggerating just a little, but considering what he’s about to do, he’s pretty sure he deserves a little hyperbole.   
  
Last month he spent so much money on Christmas shopping for Sammy and all of his friends, that he screwed himself out of his rent money and now it’s come to this. Standing outside of an art studio door, glaring at it as if it killed his father. But that's not true, because that would have been the cheap bottles of whiskey his dad used to drink like it was going out of style. Now, he kind of wishes he had some of that whiskey to block out all of the nervous energy surrounding him.

He knows that all of this anxiety is stupid. He knows that no actually harm will come from this deep down, but he can’t help but think that once he gets inside that door, there’s no turning back. This is the new Dean Winchester, a guy that’s totally ok with standing in front of people and allowing the to criticize every part of him. That may sound a bit drastic, but Dean thinks it’s entirely necessary given the situation. Why the hell did he let Sammy talk him into this? Not like all of the groaning about his brother in the world could fix this mess now. After all, he’d agreed and gotten half the payment up front.   
  
He heard footsteps coming in his direction and knew that he had to make his decision. He was either going to pay back the $50 or walk into that class and be the best damn model that class has ever seen. The footsteps were getting closer and Dean began to panic. He seriously didn’t want to return the money, plus he’d be making another $10 an hour and that wasn’t something he could give up at the moment.

So, Dean Winchester did something he never thought he would do. He walked straight in that room, really it was more of panicked run, but he still did it. Then he went right to the front of the room and stood confidently in front of the instructor's desk, hands splayed across the top as he leaned toward her, and said “I’m Dean Winchester, and I’m your new model.”

She looked at him as if this was no great feat. As if he hadn’t spent the last 20 minutes talking himself into walking into the room. She simply stared at him for a moment, looking as if she wanted to say something, but was holding herself back. Dean didn’t know what to do, he definitely didn’t have time to plan this far ahead in the hallway, and now this lady was going to sit here and stare at him like he’s the one who’s out of place. He was about to walk right back out of the door, money be damned, but a voice from behind him stopped his movement.

“She’s deaf.”

Dean turned around, following the sound of a gravelly voice, and came face to face with a messy head of dark hair standing way too close for comfort. He jumped back a little, looking at the guy that had just scared the crap out of him. He was fairly tall, still shorter than Dean, and was wearing a paint splattered purple sweater that looked at least 2 sizes too big. His jeans had holes in them and as Dean looked closer he noticed they were also covered in paint. As were the black converse with charcoal stained laces and the tan burlap messenger bag strung across his shoulder. In short, the guy was a mess. But if Dean really thought about it, he was also kind of adorable.

“What?” Dean said, after realizing he’d just been standing there, staring at the guy.

“I said, she’s deaf. She can read lips, but her translator’s not here yet and I assume you don’t know sign language.” The guy said, nodding his head toward the woman's hands.

Now that he thought about it, that made a lot more sense. He had noticed her fidgeting earlier, but mistook it for anxiety or restlessness. He felt like an ass now that he knew the truth, but there wasn’t much he could do, and paint guy was right, he didn’t know sign language. Still, it was kind of rude of the guy to assume he didn’t know, just because he didn’t notice her signing. However, Dean needed the money so he wasn’t about to pick a fight with some scrawny art student he’d probably never see again.

“Oh. Well, do you know sign language?” Dean said, a hint of contempt in his voice.

“Yes, actually, but I’m not her translator. I’m taking this class.”

“Yeah, I kind of assumed based on the paint all over your body.” Dean said, pointing down at the guys sweater sleeves. The guy looked down at himself, as if just realizing that he was indeed covered in paint almost head-to-toe. He seemed almost embarrassed by being seen like that, but Dean had figured wearing paint covered clothes was something all artists did from time to time. He wouldn’t admit however, that the reddening of his face and sudden nervous expression were kind of adorable. “Never gonna’ see this guy again” Dean reminded himself.

“Oh.Um. Yeah, I...actually don’t know if I own anything without paint on it at this point.”

“Hey, that’s cool dude. It’s kind of like wearing your heart on your sleeve, just a little more literally.”

The guy actually laughed a little at that, and it was the first time Dean saw even a hint of a smile on his face. It was barely there and more an amused smirk than anything, but even so, seeing it might’ve made Dean’s day. Hell, considering where he was right now, he was pretty sure it might of been the highlight of his week.

Dean hadn’t realized how long he had been staring before he was broken from his gaze by an coughing noise coming from the direction of the instructor’s desk. He turned to see the person who had clearly caught him doing some not so innocent staring, and saw a short blonde girl who looked like she was about to burst from excitement. Dean was honestly a little scared, but he still held out his hand to introduce himself to the girl.

“Hey, I’m Dean. I’m supposed to be the model for this class. You wouldn’t happen to be her translator, would you?”

“Hi Dean, I’m Becky! I am Mrs. Milton’s translator and I see you’ve met Castiel. I took a writing class with him freshman year. You guys should totally get coffee or something sometime. I think you guys would get along perfectly!”

“Yeah, Um...We just met, so I don’t think that’s going to be happening, but if you wouldn’t mind, I’d really appreciate you helping me get set-up here.”

“It can’t possibly be that hard Dean.” Cas said, scaring the hell out of Dean, who had forgotten the guy was standing behind him.

“Well if it’s so easy, why don’t you get up there and drop your pants instead. I don’t think I’d mind seeing that.” He winked, feeling more accomplished when the guy’s blush deepened.

“N-No…I couldn’t. I am going to sit down now. Class is starting, and I...I need to set up my...my pencils. Yes, my pencils! Lots of different pencils, so I am going to go do that...right now.” Castiel said, rushing over to his seat in the middle of the room, leaving Dean without time to respond to the man’s clear panic. He yelled out “See ya’ Cas.” before turning back to Becky and looking for further instructions from the now grinning woman.

“You guys are like my new OTP! You would be so freaking cute together.”

“Yeah, sure. Now, if you wouldn’t mind, I’d like to get this over with.”

Even though she looked like she wanted to say more, Becky held herself back and pulled him over behind a wall divider pulled back enough for him to slip through. She pointed out a few props he could take if he wanted, and the robe that he could wear when he went out to the stage. She gave him a quick run down of the basic poses and timeframes he would have to hold them and the instructions to have fun with it and leave his clothes in the cubby by the door. She left right after winking at him and encouragingly stating “Castiel will be watching.”, as if that was some incentive for Dean.

Truth be told, the thought of Cas watching him like that scared him. He could lie and say that the guy wasn’t attractive, but what’s the point when anyone with eyes could see that. It wasn’t just Cas’ face that had him hooked though, even if that played a part, the guys personality was so unique to anything that Dean had experienced before. He did initially think that the guy was a bit of an ass. Clearly he was wrong. The guy seemed so flustered at times, he probably just struggled talking to people, and Dean could understand how anxiety could mess with a person’s head.

Point is, he wasn’t entirely certain he wanted the guy staring at him naked when he couldn’t stare back. Plus, he tended to get a little awkward around guys that he liked. Woman he could charm without even thinking about it, but it was different with a guy. He never really understood why, but like everything else, he figured the issue related to his father. There really wasn’t any avoiding the issue now. Dean had already agreed to this and Becky and Mrs.Milton would be expecting him any minute now.

Taking a deep breath, Dean finished removing his clothing and threw on the long grey robe. It was surprisingly soft and comfortable, but thinking about all the other naked guys that had probably worn this robe made him want to sanitize the thing thoroughly, but there wasn’t anything he could do about that now. He stepped to the door and held his hand out to grab onto the knob, humming the lyrics to a Metallica song under his breath, and pushed his way onto the stage in the center of the room.

The lighting was blinding him a little but he could make out the faces of a few people. Luckily for him, Cas’ face was not one of them. He wasn’t sure he could bare staring into those damn eyes while actually trying to seem like a professional. He figured that, for now, he was safe. He knew how to pose well enough after Becky’s instructions, and since he could barely see, he’d be fine staring straight ahead. He held himself confidently, trying to portray that godly image that apparently some artists looked for in a model. He heard Becky translating for Mrs.Milton, going over time frames and certain shadowing techniques, displaying her work over a projector for the class to watch before they tried their hand at drawing him.

Dean was kind of glad he was turned off to the side of her desk. He was able to hear what was going on without the embarrassment he was sure would come with watching somebody draw you. Not that he doubted Mrs.Milton’s skills or anything, but he was pretty sure he knew what he looked like, so if anyone could be critical of the work, it would be him. He’d rather not see the drawing at all, then to hate it and have to lie his way through any discussions he might have with the women, considering the fact that he would be doing this for a couple of weeks.

A timer went off, startling Dean more than it probably should have, but after a second his brain worked through the meaning of the noise and he shifted into a different pose. Now, he was completely facing the back of the class, staring at the door he had walked through, silently asking it why he thought this was ever a good idea. It wasn’t that he was uncomfortable with the nudity or anything, it was more the fact that, though he couldn’t see him, he knew that Cas was watching his every move. Somewhere in the audience, that disheveled man was staring at Dean in his most vulnerable form, using his image to make a work of art.

That thought scared Dean more than anything. He wasn’t worthy of the talent he was certain the man possessed. He wasn’t anything special, he worked part time at the library on campus just to work his way through grad school, but he wasn’t any different than the hundreds of other decently fit guys on campus. At least another guy might actually know what he’s doing, Cas probably would, he seemed smart. He was more intelligent then Dean, that’s for sure. Cas was so far out of his league it was like he existed on another dimensional plane.

As if the God he didn’t believe in had heard his anguish and decided that Dean could use just a little more misery in his life, the timer sounded from the front of the room. This was fine for a moment, until the light in his eyes cleared a little more and he locked eyes with the one person in the audience he was trying to avoid. His gaze was intense and unwavering, bordering on creepy actually, but Dean played it off by telling himself it was an artist thing. However, the guy wasn’t looking down, he just kept staring at Dean, hand moving furiously across the paper. Dean had no clue how the guy was doing that without looking, but it certainly amazed him.

Dean was lost, staring into the guy's eyes, leaving him startled just as much as Castiel when the bell rang signalling a position change. Dean didn’t know how he managed to make it through the rest of the class without dying from embarrassment. He was certain that he spent the entire class with his face red from blushing. It was even worse every time he was stuck looking in Cas’ direction. At least he could find comfort in the fact that Cas seemed oblivious to any effect he may have on Dean, but that only got him so far, because he was certain everyone else in the class could see his attraction.

When Becky finally walked out near the stage and announced the end of the class, Dean could not have been more relieved. He could not take a second more of that intense staring from the dorky, yet ridiculously hot, artist. Once she was done talking, Dean practically sprinted into the back room to put his clothes back on and get out of that room as fast as possible. Step one went down without a hitch, but how the hell was he supposed to know that Cas was the slowest moving human being on Earth?

After dressing he darted out of the room, trying his best to seem inconspicuous, but failed miserably. Cas was bent down in his chair, stuffing supplies in his bag, when step two of his plan decided to crash and burn. He couldn’t see Cas, and since no one aside from Anna and Becky were still in the room, he figured all the students were long gone by then. He was proven wrong when, in his mad dash to the door, he was flung to the ground after colliding with Cas and falling over the guy's lap and onto the floor.

“Woah! Dean, are you okay?” Cas asked, pulling him up, which awkwardly enough, placed Dean in his lap.

“Uh..Y-yeah. Yeah, I’m ok.”

“Are you sure, Dean? You fell pretty hard.” Cas looked worried, which he totally had no right to be, since he didn’t even know Dean.

“I’m fine, Cas. Leave it alone.” He said, beginning to push himself up, before feeling a searing pain shoot through his wrist.

“Fuck!”

“Dean! Stop moving, let me see your wrist.”

“Seriously Cas, it’s nothing I haven’t dealt with before, so just stop. What even makes you qualified to check if I’m hurt?”

“Med-school dropout.” Cas said, pointing at himself with a sad smile on his face. “I may not seem like it now, but I’m a much different person now that I’m not some soldier just following his parents orders.”

That sounded familiar to Dean, and he recognized the look on Cas’ face. Of course, Dean didn’t really know the guy, but something about the way he talked about his past, as if he’d rather forget it ever existed, made Dean really feel for the guy. Hell, if it’d make him stop frowning like that, Dean could sacrifice his masculinity for a second to allow Cas to check him out. Wordlessly, he offered up his hand to Cas, allowing him to prod and examine to his heart's content.

“This is sprained, I have some of my old equipment back at my apartment. I could fix it up if you insist on abstaining from use of a hospital.”

“That’s really not necessary. You don’t have to go to that much trouble for me. ‘sides, it’s my own fault. I fell over you. You shouldn’t have to take care of me, ‘cause I was too stupid to watch where I was going.” Dean said, shrugging and staring at his hands in his lap.

Cas tilted his face back upward, so they locked eyes, and made sure Dean was giving him all of his attention. “You are not stupid, Dean. And I’m helping because I want to, not out of any false sense of obligation. This wasn’t your fault and it wasn’t mine, so stop trying to place all the blame on yourself. Just shut up and let me take care of you.”

They’re both left staring at each other, faces equally red from embarrassment, but neither saying a word. Dean would normally make a joke out of a situation like this, anything to avoid feelings talk, but now it doesn’t seem right. It’s like his brain finally shut up long enough for him to accept someone into his life. It’s kind of terrifying, like all of the walls he’s built around himself and being carefully torn apart, and now Cas is looking straight through him. It only takes a second longer before the situation becomes too uncomfortable, and Cas finally speaks.

“We should go to my apartment. It’s not that far from campus, but the snow is supposed to pick up soon. I don’t think we should risk further injury by walking through the snow.”

“Cas, you should really buy me dinner before inviting me to your house.” Dean says, trying to break the awkward tension that still surrounds them, but making everything worse instead.

“I...I...no.” Cas stammers out. “I just...I told you the supplies are at my home. I was not attempting seduction.”

That really shouldn’t be cute, but the way he says it, all nervous and somewhat clinical, just seems so perfect for Cas. Of course, Dean’s only known the guy for a few hours, but he feels like this is exactly how he should act. It seems innocent in a way, like he’s distanced himself from those things, and it just adds to Dean’s desire for the sweet artist.

Dean gets to his feet, careful not to push himself up with his wrist, and begins walking toward the exit. He knows that Cas is following him, he can hear his footsteps, but he can sense the confusion when Dean keeps walking to the parking lot, never pausing to ask for directions.

“Dean.” He says. Then a few seconds later, “Where are we going?”

“My car.”

“What? You can’t drive with your wrist sprained like that.”

Oh. Fuck. Dean didn’t think about that. How in the hell is he supposed to drive? How long is it even gonna’ take for his wrist to heal? Plus now, him and Cas were gonna have to walk in the snow, for who knows how long. This day could not possibly get any worse. Unsurprisingly, in his moment of anguish, he didn’t notice that Cas had been talking that entire time, and now appears to be waiting patiently for his response.

“What?”

“I said, I could drive. Then we wouldn’t have to walk through the snow.”

“No.” Dean says immediately. “There is absolutely no way that I am letting you drive Baby.”

“Baby?” Cas says, laughing slightly.

“Yes now, point me in the direction of your apartment.”

“Dean.” Cas states, all stern and cas-like. It’s honestly kind of intimidating. “You have a car. It will be much faster to drive, and then neither of us has to worry about dying of hypothermia.”

It is entirely unfair how Cas is looking at him right now. He’s got these big, round, puppy dog eyes, just like Sammy used to make when he was little. Only, Dean didn’t think Sam was a ridiculously hot guy, so it works infinitely better for Cas. Under normal circumstances, Dean would never allow such a thing to occur, but he has to admit, it’s really freaking cold outside, and his wrist is still aching, and seriously those eyes!

“Fine.” Dean huffs.

  
It takes maybe 5 minutes to arrive at Cas’ apartment, but Dean frowns and glances forlornly toward the steering wheel the whole way there. Once, Cas tries to call him out on it, but it only results in Dean turning up the radio, blaring foreigner to drown out the sound of Cas’ annoyed voice. He’s acting like a child, and he knows that, but he can’t feel too bad when he see’s Cas trying to force back a smile at the sight of Dean’s mini-tantrum.

When they get to Cas’ apartment, Dean thinks he’s never seen anyone live in a cleaner house. He assumes it must be part of the whole doctor mentality, keeping your house free of germs and what not. It’s almost amusing when he sees how much of a contrast the guys bedroom is. There are books everywhere, the sheets are rumpled, and art supplies are scattered about an entire section of the room.

“Wow, Cas. So, is this where the magic happens?” Dean asks, winking.

“I...I suppose so.”

Cas walked into the adjoining bathroom, telling Dean to wait in the bedroom while he grabbed the supplies. This gave Dean a chance to really check out the room, looking through the books piled on Cas’ nightstand. He flipped through a few, seeing a wide range of novels, from Hardy to Bradbury. He stopped when he stumbled upon Slaughterhouse Five, one of his favorite Vonnegut novels. He couldn’t believe that this guy could possibly be that perfect, but then again, he was also kind of dork, so maybe this was to be expected. Cas walked back into the room, coughing slightly to signal his entrance. Dean placed the books back down and turned to Cas, hoping he didn’t come across as nosy.

“I need to wrap your wrist. It’s just a sprain, and I don’t have the materials for a cast, but ice and some bandages, plus a healthy dose of painkillers should work.”

“Fix me up, Doc’.”

He walked over to Dean, first aid kit in hand, and kneeled down next to the bed where Dean sat. Carefully, he pulled Dean’s arm toward him, and slowly wound the bandaging around   
the injured area. When he was finished he taped it off, and looked up to Dean. It was only then that they noticed how close they had gotten. Dean’s face was just above Cas’, and he saw the artist’s eyes flick down to his mouth. It only took a second, and one hitched breath, to set them off.

Dean leaned down, capturing Cas’ mouth in a heated kiss. He felt the other man sigh against his lips and that only furthered his desire. Cas pulled himself up off his knees, now practically sitting in Dean’s lap, and hooked his arms around his neck. Dean lifted his good hand to Cas’ jaw, pressing gently to coax his mouth open. A small gasp finally allowed Dean entrance and he prodded at the other man’s mouth, as he released a strained moan. Dean’s hand lowered to Cas’ pants, making attempts to pop open the button, before a hand gently pushed at his chest, and he pulled back. It was safe to say, Dean panicked.

“Oh God, Cas. I’m so sorry, I… I shouldn’t have done that. You were only trying to help me.”

“What? D-Dean no.” Cas panted. “I...I have to tell you something.”

“Huh? What’s wrong Cas?”

“I-I’m a virgin” He whispered.

“Seriously? Have you seen yourself? How the hell did that happen?”

“I haven’t had occasion. It’s not that I have not had offers, but I never felt any emotional connection to them. With you, it’s different. It’s like we have a profound bond tying us together.”

“Wow, Cas. That wasn’t sappy at all.”

“I’m serious, Dean. This is important to me.”

Dean frowned, worried that he had genuinely upset Cas. It definitely wasn’t his attention, but he had some serious issues with saying the wrong thing. It’s not like he actually cared that Cas was a virgin. He wasn’t that old, Dean would guess he was about 23, and waiting for the right person was kind of romantic in a way. Plus, not that he would ever admit it, but the whiole ‘profound bond’ crap kind of got to Dean.

“Cas, baby, you can’t seriously think that matters to me. It’s actually kinda’ hot.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Now, what do you say, Doc’? Think ya’ can fix my problem.” Dean smirked, motioning to the obvious tent in his pants.

“Dean, stop.” Cas laughed, pushing Dean down onto the bed. “No straining your wrist. Keep it above your head.”

“Yes, sir.”

Cas growled, moving down Dean’s body, slowly divesting him of his clothing. He paused for a moment to work his shirt carefully off of Dean’s wrist before moving lower and lower. Dean was already hard and leaking. For claiming a lack of experience, Cas moved with such grace and beauty. When he’d rid Dean of everything aside from his boxers, he slowly stripped himself, allowing Dean to watch as each piece of clothing was removed, exposing the gorgeous skin hiding underneath.

Dean’s breath caught in his throat as Cas’ finally layer was removed, exposing his reddened cock, stroking a few times as he went. Dean was getting impatient and wiggled out of his own boxers, doing his best with one hand, so he didn’t anger Cas. When he was finally naked, he looked up to Cas to see his gaze fixed on Dean.

“You’re so beautiful.”

“Come on, Cas. Get to it.” Dean whined.

“Trust me, I will. I just...need to know a few things first.”

“Yeah, Cas. Whatever. Just hurry up.”

“Okay, so top or bottom? and also, I kind of don’t have condoms, so are you clean?”

“Bottom, for now, but don’t think we won’t switch every once in awhile once this wrist is healed. And yeah, I’m clean. Now, get to it.”

Cas pulled lube out from his bedside drawer, squeezing some onto his fingers and warming it up in his hands. He knew what to do from his own experimenting, so he wasn’t too nervous, especially when he had Dean encouraging him every step of the way with small gasps and moans released as Cas prodded at his sensitive hole. Once he had three fingers inside of him, Dean couldn’t take it any longer and began to squirm and beg.

“Please. Come on, Cas. Come on. I can take it. Please.”

“Yes, Dean. I’ve got you.”

Cas slicked up his cock and carefully placed himself at Dean’s entrance, waiting for a nod signalling him to continue. Dean was frantic, bucking his hips to try and push Cas deeper, even though he had been attempting to be gentle with Dean. When Cas finally bottomed out, Dean practically yelled at him to move. Dean could be bossy, and he wasn’t about to let Cas go all slow and steady. He needed him and he just couldn’t wait. Next time they could do the whole ‘lovemaking’ thing or whatever, but that wasn’t what Dean needed right now.

“Cas, harder. Please. I’m not gonna’ break.”

“Dean.” Cas groaned, finally picking up the pace.

They rocked back and forth together, a tangle of limbs and sweat, as they both pushed toward their finish. Dean felt his body begin to tense, and reached a hand down to finish himself off with a few hard strokes, timed perfectly with Cas’ pace. The sight of Dean, face screwed up in pure bliss, set Cas off as he came inside of Dean, shouting his name.

It took a few moments before either of them could calm down. Cas had collapsed on top of Dean, nuzzling into his neck, but avoiding putting further pressure on his wrist. Dean stroked his hand down Cas’ back, still breathing heavily, but finally able to speak.

“Cas, we should probably get up. We’re gonna’ end up stuck together.”

“Don’t wanna’” He muttered.

Dean laughed. “Yeah, it was pretty amazing wasn’t it.”

Cas nodded, drifting off into a light sleep, Dean following close behind. They had both forgotten about the sticky mess between them and the mess the sheets had become. Dean was glad that Cas seemed so blissful about his first time. That wasn’t something you wanted to screw up for a guy. He realized right before drifting off, that he really cared about Cas. It was probably way more than he should, considering the fact that they had known each other for mere hours, but what the hell. They had a profound bond, right?

Hours later when they both lied, freshly showered atop Cas’ bed, Dean had an idea.

“Hey Cas, what are you doing for Christmas?” He asked, running his hands through the man’s messy hair.

“Nothing. I told you, I don’t really have any family.”

“Would you like to spend Christmas with Sam and me? We have a sort of misfit thing with a few of our friends. It’s pretty awesome and I’m sure they’d all love you.”

“Are you sure, Dean? I wouldn’t want to impose.”

“Of course, I know they’d all want to meet my new boyfriend anyway, especially Sammy.”

“Boyfriend?”

“Yep. You’re stuck with me.” Dean smirked.

“Well, in that case, who am I to deny them?” Cas smiled, kissing Dean lightly on the nose before drifting off to sleep. _Ok_ , Dean thought, _Maybe I don’t have to kill Sammy for suggesting I take that gig_.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. You can find me on Tumblr at FantasticalDrew. Feel free to comment, I try to reply to them all.


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